The mad cackling of a demon chained to a dead tree woke Braylon from his slumber. It was with a headache that could destroy mountains that the Vault Hunter came back in the land of the lost and the damned. Being clueless, a usual state as of late, he started by observing the place where he was dropped in while trying to forget the all the bad things he was forced to witness in what he now thought was a nightmare, regardless of whether it was real or imaginary.
"Nyeh-he-heh. Another fool has come to try the impossible, yes he did."
Below lay a sea of thick red fog that hid everything under its veil, tickling the imagination with a plethora of noises. Surrounded on all sides by that fog was a mountain sculpted to resemble the mythical Tower of Babel; with a peak brighter than a star and layers of rock that seemed to stretch all the way to the black heavens, where nameless things darker than dark, near invisible to the naked eye, took shape in the loosest definitions of the term. Thousands of intricacies etched, built and grown on its surface would fool anyone into thinking that whole civilizations thrived on it, until they have learned the bitter truth, as Braylon did through the ramblings of the mad demon, that what he was looking at was known as Mount Babylon, the only place in Hell where someone can once again be saved from Sin.
The demon who told him that liked to assume a human form, although its proportions were all wrong and its ashen skin so stretched over its bones that it seemed unable to contain all of its body mass, despite it being more akin to a husk than to a living being. Through sudden bounds of madness the demon was able to remain coherent long enough to be able to respond to Braylon's answer.
"Ornias is my name, etched in history long forgotten by everyone." It briefly returned to its manic monologues, stopping in the middle of one just to give him one final message. "I know what you seek, child. I can see it in your eyes. You want the Peak of the Three Calvaries, but you are not one of us. Yours is a fool's errand, indeed it is. Indeed it is."
Braylon spat near Ornias' feet. Its cheerful squeaking and sobbing turned his stomach, even if all the snivelling made his muscles tense and ready to jump at the first sign of hostility. Raising his fists, he caught a glimpse of his ring. A thin layer of rust formed blotches on the otherwise pristine golden coating, and seemed to take a hold of any light that could be released to the outside world. He paid no mind to the deterioration, believing it to be a result of too much exposure to pollutants that made the air so unpleasant. If so, he dreaded to think about the state of his lungs.
He slid down a muddy slope and into the fog, leaving Ornias behind. Somewhere along the slide that took more than ten minutes, the damp and brownish earth turned solid, dry, as if it had never seen even a spoonful of water in the entirety of its existence. Unprepared, his feet hit the hard-as-rock dirt, scratching away some of the skin, enough to leave few small cuts on the soles that would burn for as long as he walked without treating them. He tumbled the remaining way to the bottom. A curse flew from his throat as he stood up. It was the first time he wished so much for a pair of shoes and some clothing. It was a new bottom he had no idea he could reach.
(Doom – Sign of Evil (John S. Weekley))
"Fuck this place and fuck this fog…"
Mindless grunts and demonic growls could be heard approaching him from fifteen meters away. Braylon aimed in that direction with the Pocket Rocket, tiptoeing to avoid drawing further attention to himself. One Imp Grunt tackled him from the fog. Its claws left three horizontal cuts on his chest before its head exploded. Two Possessed Corpses shambled their way to him, but he blew off a leg from each of them, threw off the Imp corpse, jumped to his knees and shot them dead. Crouching, he waited for more assailants. There was only one Grunt remaining. It went down in two hits.
Taking a few minutes to catch his breath, Braylon realized how lost he was. The fall and the fog were disorienting and he was sure that there should have been a slope behind him, the one from where he fell; there wasn't. After some thinking, Braylon decided to follow the direction from which the Imps and Corpses came.
He didn't know whether to feel lucky or cursed when he discovered an oasis. The perfectly yellow sand and the palm trees gave it an out of place feel when compared to the lifeless wasteland around it. It bordered on creepy when he noticed a small outpost, with its inhabitants none other than a group of Possessed Dahl Marines. Once they noticed him, he ducked behind a fallen palm, wondering if they were the same soldier he killed on that ship that sunk into Hell. They fired, but their aim was terrible. He was twice near the point of losing his head, from a Possessed that carried a Caustic Blaster laser weapon. When he killed it with a Striker blast to the head, Braylon heard the revving of an engine and an ear-shattering demonic screech. Both were coming towards him.
"Not even in death will your misery flee from you!"
"Holy shit!"
He jumped away just in time for a two-bladed chainsaw to drop on the tree trunk. It was held by a Commando. A pissed one at that. Braylon's shotgun pellets were deflected by the steel of the chainsaw. The Commando spat a few curses and began chasing the running Vault Hunter. When it closed the distance between them, Braylon circle-strafed behind the Commando and shot it in the back. With a distorted snarl it tried to turn in a one-eighty, swinging the chainsaw haphazardly with one hand. Braylon ducked and shot off the biceps. The chainsaw fell at the same time when a third shot threw the Commando on the sand, its blood forming brown splotches ont he sand.
Somthing clicked behind him.
Wide-eyed, he strafed sideways, biting back the urge to curse his injured feet. A torrent of near-plasma-hot fire fell upon the downed Commando, who unleashed a rather impressive cry for someone whose body turned to coal in a time it took to blink.
"Holy shit!" Braylon exclaimed at the corpse, then at the second Commando, the arsonist with a flamethrower and a large fuel tank strapped to its back. Its red eyes bore a hole in Braylon with the same ferocity of the firepower it wielded.
"Kill the body; curse the soul!"
Braylon strafed sideways once, then backwards twice, hoping that the flamethrower's range was short. The Commando growled and marched forward with all the grace of a robot, jumping sideways every time the shotgun's muzzle flashed. After the fifth round of shoot-then-back-the-fuck-away, Braylon had enough, so he began throwing Devastator rockets at the Commando, raising pillars of sand with each explosion until the target exploded. Some of the trees were dug out with their roots still intact.
On the other side of the body of water a group of Possessed Dahl Marines loitered, aware of his presence but seemingly unable to find a way to reach him. A single rockte killed the entire group. Their heads, pieces of torso and arms flew in every direction. Once the smoke cleared, the Possesed were just a bunch of meat and blood.
Four Caconoids rose from the water, with a Malwrath teleporting in the middle of the group. A three-rocket-burst turned a Caconoid into a bluish mist. He ran to the abandoned outpost as the Malwrath spat a blob of slag that mixed with the bile of the Caconoids, splashing against a tree and turning it purple. Braylon found two grenades near a pile of Dahl-marked crates; a Torgue MIRV and an Anshin Transfusion. He threw the latter at the demons. It released tendrils of white light that stabbed one of the Caconoids that felt nothing, turned red, then flew back to Braylon to be absorbed and heal his injuries. Braylon threw the MIRV at a Caconoid that made a beeline for his location, stretching its jaws to reveal a pit for a mouth. The grenade dropped on the oversized demonic tongue and exploded before it could be swallowed, releasing several smaller MIRV grenades whose combined power shredded everything from the palate up.
A Malwrath's eye beam hit an ammo crate in the outpost, prompting Braylon to escape. The ammunition kept going off one after another in a series of loud pops and zings. Two bullets passed near Braylon's left ear while one connected with a Caconoid's eye, blinding it. The second Caconoid and the Malwrath kept their distance, the latter firing two more lasers at the Vault Hunter.
Braylon materialized Cryophobia and froze the blind and infuriated demon. Its ability to fly lost, the ice statue shattered when it collided with the sand. After that, he spun around and tried to hit the Malwrath, but it kept zipping away every time he tried to aim with the rocket launcher's scope. It spat a ball of slag, which he froze.
He realized it was a distraction when he heard the heavy, ragged exhale of the last Caconoid who was closer to him than it used to be. So close that it tried to ensnare him with its tongue. He thoughtlessly dropped Cryophobia and materialized Holo Ripper. High-pressurized blue blood flooded the sand and trickled down hi arm as the thick slab of meat was split in half down the middle. The Caconoid gagged as it retreated its appendage, its screams turning into incoherent gurgles as the mouth kept filling up with blood and trickling out in tiny rivers. Braylon retrieved Cryophobia and dodged the Malwrath's beam. He ran up to the Caconoid, who still tried to swallow him whole, and shouted the words needed to summon an Uppercut Overdrive. Golden light enveloped his left fist as it made contact with flesh, tearing off the upper body and throwing it into the water. The light dissipated and few sparks erupted from the ring.
The Malwrath's low-pitched murmur increased in volume enough to be heard. With the Unforgiven he tried to shoot it down, proving to be a difficult task due to the nature of its fast travel technique, leaving behind afterimages of itself. Even worse was the bastardized neighing of multiple Ravager Demons that he began to pick up from the ever-present fog that surrounded the oasis.
"I must get rid of that thing before more problems show up."
He remembered how he still had a full Soul Jar from his encounter with Nisha, so he ran behind a palm tree and refilled the Staff of Wicked Sins. The Malwrath kept talking in its eerie monotone, though he failed to understand a single word. Unforgiven in one hand, the Staff in the other, Braylon strafed away from the tree and fired at the flying demon. When it zipped sideways to avoid the bullet, he activated the strongest spell his artifact could offer, materializing a magical circle that bound the Malwrath in place, unable to move a muscle.
Dozens of flaming swords built themselves into existence around the demon. The first would pierce its skin and dig into the body as far as it could, sealing the wound shut with a bubble of melted flesh. After the first came the second, then the third, then the fourth and so on until the very last. The Malwrath soon shared its resemblance to a pincushion than a living being. However, it seemed that none of the swords went for vital points and organs, so when the circle collapsed, and the swords disappeared with it, the Malwrath began to sink towards the water in near slow motion. If it had any will to fight, it was gone.
But he refused to sit and wait for the scene to unfold, as the pack of Ravager Demons surged from the fog in a wild stampede. Three of them dived into the water while the fourth set its sights on Braylon. He strafed sideways when the pinkish brute closed the distance, letting it knock down few palms before coming to a stop. It blew up with a Devastator rocket to the soft and exposed back.
The second and third Ravagers rushed from the bloodstained water on the shore near the destroyed outpost while the fourth thumped out with the strength of a pissed off Bullymong, chewing on a piece of Malwrath. He pumped three rockets into its face, destroying the protective plates of hardened flesh, and with a fourth knocked its now-headless corpse back to where it came from.
"This thing's low on ammo. Gotta use it sparingly from now on."
Attracted by the explosions, the other two Ravagers rushed back to Braylon, seeing him as another source of food for them to consume. He needed to defeat one more in order to use the power of the Seraphim's Seal, so he focused on the one in the front, shooting it with Striker and avoiding the second Ravager with a circle-strafe. With their backs exposed, he peppered the nearest with the Minishark. The last Ravager Demon standing slowly spun around and huffed like a bull while dragging its foot in the sand. He was ready.
"Superman Punch Over-huh?"
He was ready to deploy the weapon that could kill a demon. The fist was waiting to strike the head of the mad beast in pink. But something was wrong with the Seal. It didn't bless his attack with the much-needed holy energies. Few pitiful sparks popped from the ring, now rustier than before, then it died, shut down like a worn light bulb. Braylon could only stare in awkward shock as the Ravager smacked into him seconds later.
It was like getting hit by a car. His brain processed the incoming pain only a few seconds after he found himself stuck on top of the Ravager's head. And while the demon kept running forward into the fog, Braylon's mind told him that something was broken in his chest (yet again), that his lungs were out of air and that he would have been killed if it weren't for the supernatural resistance given to him by the Oath of the Slayer. Yet even with such abnormally-high resistance to physical trauma, Braylon couldn't help but thrash and scream soundlessly, his eyes tearing up and his throat burning from the acidic bile that rose from the stomach. It was by a small miracle that his body slid off from the demon, who thrashed and howled all the way.
The fall was played a minor role in the tragedy, for he was far too dazed to feel the collision of his body with the terrain. The Ravager Demon left him in a nameless wasteland. Even with all the pain he felt, he was glad that said pain didn't extend to his soul as well. There, resting on the lifeless dirt, Braylon had an epiphany about the Seal. Whatever happened to it, he would not be able to rely on it as much as he did. At least the effects that protected his soul from demonic attacks seemed to work still, he thought.
Standing up was not an easy thing to do. Aside from the injuries, which he grew to tolerate as much as possible, the feeling he got from the fact that he would be decked by something sooner or later both angered and saddened him. He was tired, not just physically. Tired of fighting, tired of horrors that followed him, tired of the burning sensation in his lungs and the incessant growling of his stomach, tired of the filth that caked his body, tired of the injuries that came and went, tired of the strife and ruin that befell him ever since he went back to Hell, tired of being lonely.
A pair of humanoid figures walked out from the fog during his moment of self pity; a dark-skinned woman with her long hair tied in two braids of uneqal size and with eyes as blue as the deepest of oceans, followed by a man in a teal-colored knightly armor that covered every inch of his body and decorated with tiny stars made of what looked like chalk. In contrast to him, the woman wore a costume that Braylon would later think of as something between a belly dancer's outfit and a shrine maiden's. He held a shuriken-like weapon almost as big as his arm, she carried two crescent-shaped shields with expressionless faces.*
In any other situation, Braylon would have laughed them off and thought of them as weird, which he swore to be a shared sentiment if the woman's face were any indication. But not there. He was quick to curse his own eyes for being unable to see through tricks and deceptions and any attempt to rationalize anything that looked like it could give him pain was thrown out of the window. His Unforgiven shot a bullet near the woman's bare feet. They both raised their arms and shouted something in a language his PDA could not translate.
"What motherfuckery are you trying to pull off this time?!" he shouted back. Their confusion pissed him off even more. Did they really think he would fall for their acting?
He fired again, giving them a reason to answer back. The knight threw his oversized shuriken. A powerful wind caused by the spinning weapon blew away some of the fog. Braylon strafed sideways, but the wind destabilized his posture, allowing the woman to smack his sides with her shields.
"Augh! You dirty bitch!"
He got a shield to the face, only to duck under the second one. His Unforgiven was aiming at her exposed stomach. Before he could pull the trigger, she put a shield there, thus deflecting the bullet. The knight came from behind her and kicked him away before grabbing the returning shuriken.
Angered, Braylon materialized Devastator and fired a rocket, which ended up blocked by the two shields fused into one. The Soul Jar rolled to their feet before the smoke dissipated. They screamed in agony as a portion of their lives was stolen from their bodies, something he took as an opportunity to deliver death to at least one of them. The woman looked up to him and gasped, understanding that he would soon take her life with his Holo Sabre. However, the knight rushed in front of her seconds before the holographic blade descended. He took the hit that was meant for her. She screamed as he pushed Braylon back with his weapon. The spotless, shining armor soon grew a nasty red stain.
They began to lose their concentration. The injury looked fatal. He was losing far too much blood, despite trying to look tough. Braylon brought Unforgiven again and pulled the trigger thrice, but all the bullets were blocked by the growingly-desperate woman. The Vault Hunter drew Kalibak's Heartslayer, waiting for the moment when the shield-user focused a bit more on her companion than necessary. When that time came, it was the end for the knight.
She couldn't understand why her hero trembled or why she heard a meaty "pop!" that came from inside the armor. Her thoughts raced in her head when she saw blood trickling from his helmet. Then her knight collapsed. It was the breaking point. The panic she had turned to uncontrollable anger at the alien that dared to injure someone close to her. Throwing away the remaining bits of reason, she rushed blindly at Braylon, wanting nothing more than to beat his head in with her shields. Instead, the same blade that brought the ruin to him was also the one that took her life. She impaled herself on it.
Braylon had deduced way earlier that using the Heartslayer would spawn an unquenchable hatred for his person in the minds of the target's living allies. Even with that knowledge, he didn't expect such a drastic impact of the effect on non-demon beings. She judged him with a look that not even his worst enemies had when facing him. In that moment, when she blindly threw herself at him, that woman was scarier than any demon. She even refused to acknowledge the Holo Sabre that was stuck in her stomach. Closing his eyes, he pointed the Unforgiven at her head. A bang echoed. Her body fell. He closed her eyes before moving on.
Once emptying the Soul Jar was over, it was time to pick a direction, as any hope to find the correct way was null. Some time later, he had found a village that would be more appropriate for a world in its medieval phase. All the buildings were preserved to perfection but there were no people present. The smile on his face grew wider and wider as he ran to the nearest house and kicked down the door. He could find food in there!
The thought of having something edible in his mouth made him more focused on searching the pantry than to feel sad about a family of four corpses sitting around a table with rotting remains in their plates. Pots were shattered, vases thrown. He kept destroying until he turned the whole place upside down. What little food he found was rotten or dry as a rock.
"Nothing here… maybe-"
He heard Imps crawling through the chimney and windows. Four Grunts hissed to make their presence known. He bit his lower lip until he drew blood.
"No time for this. I must find something to eat."
Braylon waited in the corner for the first Grunt to show up. When it did, he shoved the Pocket Rocket's barrel in its chest, fired thrice then punched it in the face. In that sudden surge of adrenaline, he leaped at the nearest Imp and cut it open with Holo Ripper.
"Fuckin' let me eat in peace, stupid shitskin fucks!"
A window on the adjacent wall opened to a muddy street. By sheer randomness did he glance through; seeing a short and chubby man with a tiny goatee and closed eyes. The stick that was taller than its owner and the necklace told him that he was looking at a Sorcerer.
"Shi-!" were the only words he was able to say before an invisible blast obliterated the wall and sent him flying into another house present in the neighborhood. He crashed into a cabinet that contained a dinner set made of wood.
Not even having the time necessary to figure out what hit him, another Sorcerer teleported in the middle of the room, levitating with his legs crossed where a birch stick sat in his lap. He clapped, summoning four monstrous hands from his back which he directed at Braylon. The Vault Hunter strafed away from the first two. The other pair punched then tossed him into the wall.
"…That all you can do?!" he smiled at his attacker, who unsummoned the hands. He then rolled one hand into a fist and smashed it into the open palm. A giant foot appeared above his head. "…Oh."
Braylon materialized Pocket Rocket and kept firing until he depleted all ammo in the pistol. The Sorcerer blocked the shots by raising a hand, which produced an invisible shield. It gave him enough time to get back up and jump through a window. All hopes of making some distance between him and the enemy died the moment when the fatter magic user reached his position by riding a sphere of pressurized air, like some circus act, in mere moments. The Sorcerers were working like a team.
Braylon narrowly escaped from another attempt at his life with a gimmicky spell that leveled a cottage. When he was about to run, the second Sorcerer blocked the path.
"We got you trapped. You won't escape from my next attack." boasted the fat one behind him. He chanted something as his short hands kneaded air into a head-sized package. The other Sorcerer summoned his hands to stop any attempt at escape Braylon could come up with.
They were caught off guard when he spun around and, out of nowhere, shouted "Catch!" while throwing the Soul Jar at the taller Sorcerer. The latter eyed the object with confusion that amounted to horror as he recognized the artifact. His comrade, unsure of what was Braylon trying to pull, hastily threw his magical air bomb before it could grow further in power.
The Soul Jar sucked the life out of him, crushing the concentration required to keep the extra limbs real. Braylon strafe-jumped right and tried to climb into a house. The bomb was faster. It detonated in front of the weakened Sorcerer. The entire neighborhood was blown away by the violent winds, pushing the Vault Hunter and the house all the way to the other end of the village, crash landing into a barn full of hay. A piece of glass made a small cut on his forehead, coloring most of his face in red. Some of it dropped into his eye. He tried to rub it off as he pushed through the piles of hay.
An explosion broke down the barn gate, a powerful wind throwing hay to the other side of the structure. A singular green eye shone through the fog, slow footsteps were followed with wheezes and groans that only a greasy, rusty machine could produce. Braylon observed as a purple-colored object boomed out from the fog into a nearby stack of hay, which became fine purplish dust.
The attacker turned out to be a Mancubus decked out from head to feet in a dark purple, metallic armor. Its hand cannons were replaced with a technological variant coated in a ceramic-like substance. ** One of its cannons blasted something shiny and purple at Braylon, who threw himself on the floor to avoid it. That "something" was a cluster of purple crystals which stuck themselves to the wall and exploded soon after.
"Eridium?!"
With as much speed and agility possible did Braylon launch himself behind several piles of hay as the Mancubus kept firing Eridium crystals. He darted through a door and out in the fog, making his way towards the destroyed section of the village.
"I hope I didn't lose that Jar."
The living Sorcerer was gone while his partner's body was everywhere. Braylon searched frantically for the Soul Jar among the ruins, praying that the heavily-armored demon didn't attack him from behind. His failure to find the Soul Jar made him scream through his teeth.
"Fuck! Shit! Cocksucker!"
It was inching closer. Fat thumps kept increasing in volume. Braylon hid himself behind a crumbled wall. He materialized Devastator, firing a rocket when the demon turned its back to him. The explosion kicked it forward, yet its armor was only dented. It took a while to spun around, so he fired a second rocket in its shoulder. Same result.
"What's that thing made of?"
The Mancubus raised both of its cannons, which buzzed and squelched. He strafed out of range as thick purple sludge sprayed in ropes. It was sticky and uncomfortable to look at.
A third rocket slammed the chest, shaking bits of the armor around it. Braylon swapped for Pocket Rocket and tried to hit the same spot, thinking he had found a weakness. Each miniature explosion, in contact with the purple metal, created either a spark of electricity, flames or a splash of acid, but none of the effects could damage the armor. When the Mancubus was about to attack, Braylon decided to fire a gyrojet bullet at one of the cannons. He could see a yellow dot making a beeline for the barrel, losing itself inside the massive weapon. One muffled explosion later and the cannon blew apart, its ceramic plating shattering like glass.
But the Mancubus was a threat even when one of its weapons became useless. Sheltering its face from a more bullets, it fired a cluster too close for him to move away in required time. Tiny shards cut Braylon's skin as he was thrown off his feet, leaving him with a feeling akin to crawling naked on a field of broken glass. Even then, he dared to roll away from another sploosh of nauseating refuse, worsening the state of his injuries. The demon, unprepared, forgot to protect its exposed eye and ended up losing it to a gyrojet bullet as a result. Purple blood made its gas mask – helmet even uglier as moans and gurgles drummed from the mechanical mouth. Braylon scampered to the second cannon and with three heavy strikes of Holo Sabre cut it in half. He then ran into the fog, away from the Mancubus, hissing and yelping all the while.
Once he figured he was on a safe distance away from the village, he began to pull out one the bits with his fingers, hoping for the best since he had nothing to bite on to avoid damaging his teeth or injuring his tongue. Digging into the wound with bare fingers and without painkillers was painful enough. Trying to pull out the Eridium shard was a nightmare. Even moving it by an inch almost sent him into shock. The only way to remove it from his body was to do it step by step. It would take him hours to get rid of them all.
The last few tugs were the worst. His eyes rolled into his head as he fell on his back. His shortness of breath was yet another problem on a mountain of them. Intrusive thoughts started to seep in ever since the Seraphim's Seal failed to kill that Ravager Demon. And now he lost the only item that could make his Staff of Wicked Sins useful. He covered his eyes with an arm as tears welled up in his eyes. Among the sea of tortured souls, nobody would hear him cry.
(Per Kristian Risvik – Doom: Suspense)
He ran through rows upon rows of bamboo trees, with Wraiths teleporting behind him. Sliding under a Sawcubus' chainsaw, Braylon followed a slope down to a path paved with wooden planks, lit with torches that produced unnatural fire. He turned around. The Wraiths were gone. One popped up behind him, screeching into his ear. It knocked him on the ground, kicking his unforgiven away. A second Wraith teleported few meters down the path, followed by a Sawcubus eager to turn his flesh into flakes. Braylon hid his right hand under his belly, materialized Heartslayer, then targeted the demon on his back. Rupturing its heart, he aimed the cursed tool at the second Wraith. It gave a shrill holler as it dropped like a sack of rocks.
The Sawcubus' mouth foamed as it charged with all the rage of a psychopath. Braylon strafed backwards to avoid the chainsaw, then strafed forwards and blew the Sawcubus's head off with Orphan Maker. More Wraiths kept appearing after that, so he continued his marathon to find a way out of the forest.
Another Sawcubus waited for him at a crossroads. It gleefully raised the bloodstained chainsaw as something tall and red teleported behind its back. The demon gasped as a golden staff stabbed through its head. The body erupted into gore with a bright flash, revealing the traitorous force as if it were a show. That thing floated above ground, wearing some kind of strange red armor with a helmet twice as big as a human's head. Its exposed face spoke of corruption of what have might been pure once. It was known as the Blood Maykr, a newer caste among the demonkind.***
The two bullets shot from Unfrogiven proved to be useless against the impenetrable shield of the Blood Maykr. In response, the demon threw its staff at Braylon, who strafed away before it could impale him. The same staff that, when it struck the ground, formed a pool of eldritch energies, reappeared in the Maykr's hands seconds later. While the attack unfolded, he fired a bullet at the thing, which bounced off the shoulder.
"It shuts down the protective barrier when attacking, eh? That gives me an idea."
When it threw the weapon again, Braylon jumped forward and on the ground, instantly aiming at the exposed face. The bullet tore through its teeth and down the throat.
"Eeeeaaarrrghh!"
Cringing at the noise that bombarded his ears, Braylon charged at the Blood Maykr, who shielded its face with its free hand while swinging and thrashing madly. He was two meters away from the demon when his luck stabbed him in the back. In a brief moment of clarity, the Maykr noticed the approaching Vault Hunter and summoned a cross-shaped energy beam, something he couldn't dodge. Taking the attack meant being exposed to a mix between a high-voltage electric shot and the feeling of his soul being set on fire. He stood there, arms spread, shaking like a branch in a heavy storm. It was his turn to express pain.
The Blood Maykr hissed, willing to impale the steaming body for the humiliation it had to endure, when three Wraiths teleported around the mortal, owlishly eyeing its trophy. They were oh so willing to finish the job.
This couldn't stand.
It drove the staff through the head of the first Wraith, delivering the message that the human would die by its hands and that they had to back off or else. The first Wraith leaped at the Maykr only to bounce off from the energy barrier. It was sliced in half. The second Wraith heeded the warning and left.
They were left alone. The Blood Maykr looked down on the pitiful form of the human that dared to injure its superb visage. It lifted him by the neck until his eyes could meet its. All it took to snuff that life out was a gentle push of the tip to the Maykr was bemused when his hands grabbed the blades, despite his eyes indicating that he was drifting away, somewhere. It pushed harder. The blades still wouldn't budge. It pushed even harder.
Braylon came back to his senses, chopped off the blades from the staff with Holo Sabre and shoved them in the Maykr's skull, all before the demon could react in any meaningful way. They dropped on the floor.
"Puah!" he coughed, "Never again… ever."
With his pursuers gone, the Vault Hunter could venture further into the forest, where he stumbled upon a gigantic plane, broken and battered. An Agent of Apocalypse was summoned from the depths of Hell to guard the entrance to the wreck. When it spotted Braylon, it stomped the ground with one of its fiery hooves, forming a line of miniature explosions aimed at him. Although he evaded the attack, the rows of bamboo trees behind him couldn't, so those that weren't dug out from the dirt became torches that rapidly shared their fire among their brethren.
"Fuck, I need to be quick!"
He wanted to explore the plane to see if he could find something useful, so he materialized Cryophobia to deal with the threat. A Cryo rocket, while not bringing the results he wanted, staggered the demon with the blanket of cryogenic gas thrown all over it. He shot another rocket while dodging a fireball, which worsened the forest fire, and chipped some of its carapace away with Minishark until he used up all the remaining ammo he had for that gun. Orange, lava-like blood flowed from the molten innards of the demon.
"Fuck man, what else do you need to stay down?!"
It roared furiously as it threw three more fireballs in rapid succession. Each of them missed as Braylon returned fire with Striker. Even a dozen shots didn't kill the body, though most of the rock-hard skin was peeled off. At last, he pulled out the Heartslayer and gave it a go. The Agent of Apocalypse imploded as the body was consumed by unholy fire, leaving nothing behind.
The wreckage had no passengers or even their bodies. In the cockpit he had found a dead humanoid with a red and black armor. He thought it was an alien due to the tiny red slit for a visor. In its lap sat a long, bulky gun with a rectangular barrel and a tiny screen near the iron sights. Inserting a fist-sized battery under the stock caused the weapon to hum. The screen displayed a logo with the UAC acronym before turning to gun statistics, displaying ammo capabilities, firing modes and collected heat. Despite being longer than his arm, it was light enough to be carried.
"Could come in handy."
Two Barons of Hell teleported outside of the plane and tore their way in, throwing out seats and stripes of metal. Braylon waited for hoofsteps that would come close enough for an ambush. One of the Barons punched through the thin wall of the cockpit. Braylon fell on his ass with a yelp, unleashing some plasma bolts at the arm. Said bolts popped upon contact with the biceps, first burning the flesh, then tearing it off. The Baron pulled away its arm in a hurry, howling as it did so. Its brother kicked down the door, focusing its hateful gaze at Braylon. He fired a short burst again, hitting its face. It roared, protecting its head with the massive arms as it stumbled backwards.
His only way of escaping his unfortunate predicament was to smash the windows and jump out of the cockpit. A Pain Elemental rose from the fires just as he landed. The Lost Soul it spat as a shield couldn't withstand the continuous stream of plasma directed at the one that brought it there. The Pain Elemental was easily dispatched, as were the Lost Souls it left behind. That victory was short-lived, as it stole that precious time he needed to escape from the bloodthirsty Barons. One of them, the one with the charred face, smashed through the metal plating as if it were paper, landing in front of Braylon. Meanwhile, another Pain Elemental showed up.
Braylon ducked under a fireball, which destroyed the Elemental's Lost Soul, and answered with more plasma. The Baron raised its arms for protection and charged. Braylon rolled sideways, allowing the Baron to slam into the Pain Elemental. He fired some more then ran away.
On the weapon's screen flashed a „MAX HEAT" warning and told him to touch a button to use it. While pondering what it did, he heard booming hoofsteps to his left. The second Baron knocked down the bamboo trees that stood in its way and slammed the ground with its healthy hand. The shockwave sent both Braylon and dirt flying. He rolled away from a hoof meant for his head. He pointed the barrel up and pulled the trigger. All he saw was air around the barrel twisting as the demon's arm, chest and even head erupted into a thick cloud of gore. The Baron of Hell dropped on the ground, rolling and screaming as blood flew by litres. Braylon understood that it was the moment to keep running. It was after the injured Baron was nothing more than a dot at the horizon that he had found a way out of the forest.
The next landmark he would discover came after trekking once again through the wasteland. He didn't know how to call it or what was its purpose. To him, it was a field of rectangular pillars scattered across a flat field. There was no structure that would connect them, no object that would give them a specific purpose. It was for that reason that his body became tense and ready to jump at the slightest sign of danger when he discovered that some of the pillars bore traces of light patterns commonly found in Eridian ruins. The fog in that place was less dense and converged around the outermost pillars.
Nothing happened until he had found some skeletal remains near a pair of ammo boxes he looted the moment he discovered that they weren't empty, replenishing some of his ammo for most weapons minus the Minishark. Whole swarms of Dark Souls, Forgotten Ones and Lost Souls emerged from the fog or descended from the heavens. Braylon couldn't contain his surprise at the amount of floating skulls that decided to show up.
"Holy fuck, that's a lot of 'em!"
He destroyed the first Dark Soul and five Lost Souls with plasma, before switching to Orphan Maker and Unforgiven combo. A Forgotten One came out from a nearby pillar only to be banished with a point blank range blast from the shotgun, leaving a ghostly wail as it shattered into bits of bone. He began to take notice of something strange going on when he avoided a projectile from a Dark Soul. Despair-ridden sobs echoed from a voice that seemed to cry behind him. He turned his head quite a few times and almost got trampled by the swarm of flaming skulls as a result.
On a black platform stood a mass of warped flesh mounted and fused to a four-legged spider-like chassis. Its many mouths drooled and its eyes plastered all over the skin like tumors cried rivers of tears, not necessarily made of salty water. Of note was the complete lack of any means of offense. Nothing on the chassis could be used as a weapon and the demon gave off an aura of utter cowardice. It kept whimpering and begging more than a frightened child ever could. Braylon had the urge to beat it to a pulp.****
"Stop crying and come at me already." His left eyebrow twitched.
"Uwaaah! W-who are you?! You are creepy!"
"I said stop crying."
"No! Don't come any closer!"
"Stop. Fucking. Crying!"
Unable to hold back anymore, the Vault Hunter materialized Holo Ripper and ran at the giant demon. The Souls and Forgotten Ones stopped attacking and flew higher. He would have never noticed the hiding figure behind a pillar if it weren't for a faint golden glint as a three-pronged spear was chucked his way. He strafed backwards, letting the entity to pick up its weapon.
It was another breed of Maykr, one with black armor instead of red and a purple halo behind its back. This one carried an additional tool for spreading misery and death; a sword made of flesh whose differently-sized eyes gazed at Braylon with a hatred no sword should have. Only a depraved and corrupted individual like that would proudly hold the title of Dark Maykr.*****
The mere sight of that sword told him that it would be very bad for his health if he got struck with it. As fast as he could, he strafed four times backwards, thinking he was safe if the Maykr couldn't hit him with that thing. A Mancubus teleported behind him. That wasn't something he kept on his mind as much as the fact that the Dark Maykr did nothing to close in on him. Rather, it raised its sword above its head, a move that confused Braylon until he put two and two together and strafed the hell away from its sight. Right as he disappeared behind a pillar, the sword tapped the ground and the Mancubus was halved with a thin line of black light.
"What, now they can stab me from afar too?." he sighed, "So fucking unfair."
The Dark Maykr blinked itself in front of him. Luck would have it that he managed to duck before another swing with that meat stick. The pillar turned shorter as a whole layer of rock was rendered into dust. Braylon had the mental fortitude to put aside his encounter with death should he be hit even once with that fucking sword, drawing Orphan Maker and shot the black chestplate. The proximity of the blast allowed all the pellets to hit with as much strength as possible. Not even that armor could endure the pressure and so it cracked, scraping off some of the black paint. The Dark Maykr bobbled, concussed by the shot, only to receive a punch in the gut with another pair of shells. It smacked him sideways with the spear before he could do additional damage. Nothing could have prepared it for his circle-strafing technique. Unlike the Blood Maykr, this one lacked wings, so a single shot would be undoubtedly fatal, as it seemed that the armor had lighter protection on the back to favor the front.
Then his ears picked up more demonic whining.
"Uweeeeeeeeeeh!"
It sounded like a baby, yet his body recognized it as the call of the demon bound on that walking chassis. It recognized, because he roared in pure, mindless rage as his head turned, by its own volition, towards that mountain of tears that called itself a demon. To his thoughts, no joy would be greater than to strangle it with his own bare hands. To his almost-silenced rational self, however, it sounded like a trap to force him into lowering his guard so that the Maykr could strike without any intrusions from his part. It took a strong force of will to merely direct his eyes at the would-be fallen angel. He was right. The Dark Maykr had all the time in the world to turn around and end him. Twisting his facial muscles as if he had to lift a car, the Vault Hunter successfully strafed backwards. And while his body was safe from harm, his Orphan Maker didn't make it. The barrels were sawed off.
"Damn it! Not this one too!"
He threw the destroyed shotgun at the Maykr, who deflected with the staff- As it did, he materialized Pocket Rocket and kept hitting the center of mass until the armor fell apart, revealing the protected flesh in all its horrifying glory.
"Dear god, what the hell are you?"
The Maykr screeched before Braylon silenced it with a shot in the chest. Without the armor, it appeared weak and breathless, unable to wield its weapons with the same efficiency as before. Its spear shot a blob of energy he dodged effortlessly. To repay the Dark Maykr for the lost gun, he stabbed it with the Holo Sabre first, kicked its head, snapped its neck, and shot the back of its skull.
"Thanks for making my life worse, dick."
His brutal revenge was rewarded by the Oath of the Slayer with a surge of rage and power. Willing to crush all who dared to do as much as look at him funny, Braylon turned his eyes to the sky, where he saw a gathering of six Dark Souls, six Forgotten Ones and six Lost Souls dancing in circles and screeching their heads off. A disembodied voice boomed like a low-pitched siren.
"I'm impressed, meatbag, I really am. It's not an everyday sight to see a mortal surviving a demonic onslaught for so long. Accept this gift, from me to you."
Silence wasn't so much heard as it was felt. Even the whining demon refused to voice itself, its eyes turning at the red sea above.
"Listen up, everyone." the voice returned, "A pesky mortal thought he could storm into our turf and take what is ours. I hereby order you to kill him at once. Disobedience or failure will not be tolerated." It punctuated the last sentence. "Those who get killed by the mortal won't live to see the Final Judgement. Either you die by Him or you die by me. The choice is yours."
Right after the conclusion of the speech, a swirl of red energy enveloped the unguarded Vault Hunter. His head shot backwards as he felt a strong pressure inside his body.
"Fuck's going on?!"
"Been a while since we talked like this."
"You…!"
"Yep. Sorry for waiting so long. I must sound cool in front of them. I'll take the lead now."
Braylon's eyes widened.
"Don't be like that. It's a win-win-win for all of us. I get to cull the weak, they get to hate you even more and you get the front row seat. It'll be fun, I promise."
"Fuck you!"
"Oh, you have no idea. But first, the main course. Now shut up."
"Nyaaaaaargh!"
He felt a mental push as his body began twitching and moving without his consent. The red curtain of energy was absorbed through his skin. He grinned, cracking his knuckles and neck.
"Ah, this shit never gets old."
The ignorant spiderdemon turned its eyes back to Braylon, reminding itself of his presence. It let out a deafening, siren-like screech as pillars of red light and pentagrams began materializing all over the field.
"Oh-ho-ho. Bring it, everyone. Time for our therapeutic session."
(DoomPowerMetal – The Devil)
He felt a hand touching his shoulder. Letting himself to be turned around, he was amused to see a Former Human screaming at his face.
"Fight me or perish, mo-rrraargh!"
He shoved his foot up and through the hip so hard it ended up between the rib cage. With a kick forward he sent the Former Human flying.
"Hiyah!"
After karate-chopping an Imp Grunt in half, he kicked a Lost Soul like a ball at a Baron of Hell. The demon, shielding itself from the Soul's explosion, failed to stop the Vault Hunter from climbing on its back. The latter stabbed the former's throat with Holo Sabre and drove it upwards, splitting the skull and painting everything in green blood. Gripping the horns, he ripped apart the two halves down to the spine.
"Wooo! This shit beats long-term scheming every day of the week!"
"You are fucking insane. Let go of my body!"
"Not yet."
Braylon landed with a foot on a Prowler's head, then punched through the guts of a Former Human, before a Cyber-Mancubus teleported right in front of him.
"Come on, fat fuck. Fuckin' do it."
As soon as it raised its cannons to release the acidic fluids, he circle-strafed to its left side and climbed up the arm. He sat in front of its face and grinned.
"Guess what, you ain't dying of diabetes."
He ripped the headset along with the head as the demon choked on its own blood. That same head was thrown into the mouth of a charging Caconoid, who swallowed it on impulse. Braylon jumped down from the corpse, dodging the deformed monster, and took aim with one of the cannons.
"Get jizzed on!"
Some cables were ripped off, activating the cannon, which blew a toxic blob at a pair of Dread Knights. What was metal turned into slurry that melted through the skin and fused itself with everything underneath. What was exposed flesh became something more akin to vomit and digested food. Their legs sizzled away. They dropped on the pool of acid, rolling to avoid the burning sensation, only to further prolong their suffering, until what remained were corpses with the consistency of a warm ice cream.
Another blob was shot on a Pain Elemental. Blinded, it dropped on a Fury, blowing them into smithereens. Yet another blob melted through a wall of Imps.
"This is fucked up. You are disgusting."
"If it's from you, it's a compliment."
"At least I'm not commiting genocide on my own brothers. While free riding in someone's body."
A black blur tackled them from the side and into a pillar.
"Aaaaaargh!"
Braylon smiled with a toothy grin, intending to show as much of his teeth as possible. His smile was meant to piss off the one who held him pressed against the pillar; a muscular Former Human in black, torn spandex and red cape, with a golden swastika on the chest. Its face sported multiple cuts, some of them fresh.******
"Ooops. I forgot."
The Former Human punched him in the chest, shattering every bone in the left rib cage.
"Uwaaaa-aaaarrr!"
"Any pain I would've felt," he winced from a punch to the gut, "You will feel it double. As for you…"
Braylon grabbed the approaching third fist.
"I think you had your fun."
After twisting the arm until broken bones poked out, the Vault Hunter grabbed the head and took a bite of the Former Human's frontal lobe, spitting the bone in a Revenant's forehead with the punch of a bullet. A knee to the solar plexus made him free from the Former Human's grip.
"I don't understand." he said as he tore the second arm off, "Why should I feel sympathy for these weaklings? Look at them." He ended the Former Human with a neck chop that bent its head in a way that it almost touched the shoulder. "They're getting their asses handed to them by a fucking hairless ape."
"A hairless ape whose body you took!"
"Doesn't matter. I didn't even start my warm up. Hm?"
A cage of black stone appeared around Braylon. It was the work of a Void Caller Arch-Vile that teleported on top of a tall pillar. The two Thalamus Arachnotrons to its sides activated their plasma weaponry.
"How shameful. A power like that and all he can do is to grow pretty rocks."
Braylon shattered through the walls as plasma rained upon him. Some of the bullets either grazed or burned his flesh, though he cared not, for it would all regrow moments later. It was the soul that shouldered the burden of pain.
The Arch-vile died when a piece of its own rock perforated its heart, letting it bleed to death. For the Arachnotrons he would use boulders that were guaranteed to mince their brain-shaped bodies.
"I'm so gonna enjoy torturing them first, stripping them of everything. Then I'll devour their remains and make myself even stronger. A fitting end."
Earth shook with loud thumps that echoed from the fog.
"Oho! Brace yourself, slave. The big boys have come to play."
From the left side, a Desolater marched through the demonic hordes, squashing all those who didn't move from its path with its massive feet. The Cyberstein emerged from the right. Two Onis, a Thuder Fist and a Burning Mouth, destroyed some pillars behind him.
Braylon smiled, hitting his fists together. Tiny red and black sparks turned into electricity that protected the firsts like a pair of gauntlets.
"I was always ten steps above them." he circle-strafed around a Maggot and suplexed it, "They're aware of it. That's why they want to be me." A Prowler leaped off from a nearby pillar only to be backhanded into a bloody smudge. "I'm not blaming them. Who in their right mind would tolerate being looked down upon?"
A Hell Knight tried to surprise-attack him from behind. He sighed, crouched and swiped its feet under it, then kneed it further in the air so that he could jump from a pillar, then from the Knight, to the floating War Elemental. He surged through the resulting explosion and on top of a pillar, with parts of his skin flayed in the process.
"To think we used to share the same Heaven…"
One Hierophant teleported to his left side.
"You caused us trouble for the last time mo-"
His gaze turned to the newcomer. It bowed the head in silence.
"…I see. Very well. I shall inform other members, so that they do not incur your wrath."
It disappeared.
"See, he gets it. He knows his place. Unlike someone…"
Braylon's eyes turned to a tall, milky white, feminine figure with multicolored butterfly wings, each of them having dozens of tiny yellow eyes with a red dot for pupils. Its head was also a butterfly, a black and blue one, but lacking any facial, or other, features. Its long and thin arms were crossed in front of its chest. A faint, feminine humming came from somewhere around it.*******
"My word, are you revolting." he ducked under the Cyberstein's energy beam, "You wait your turn."
He paid no mind to the Summoner that brought back the Mancubus with the purple armor, nor to the hapless, yet-to-be-informed Harvester, who tried to drain Braylon of his life, only to succumb to suicidal madness as it tapped into the dark force that possessed his body. It clawed at itself until it expired from all the blood it had lost, not from the wounds it inflicted upon its person.
Braylon jumped from pillar to pillar. Every demon that tried to stop him was gibbed into oblivion with a mere push or touch. Eventuallz he was only a pillar away from the white-skinned demon, who summoned a swarm of butterflies that flew themselves at him, their wings cutting his skin like tiny knives.
"I had enough of you."
Diving through a Rahovart that happened to fly between them, the Vault Hunter reached the demon and hugged its waist before it could react. He ripped off the upper body and threw it down. He was deaf to the high-pitched screams, as he was deaf to the spiderdemon crybaby. His foot stomped down so hard on the head that the pillar cracked.
From there, he jumped down in front of the Desolator, squishing a Peon Imp. His smile irritated the Desolator to no end. His fleshy foot descended on Braylon. It never reached the ground.
"How stupid can you get? Still haven't figured it out?"
The foot he held was twisted until he heard a loud pop. The Desolater howled as it sank on one knee. A fist obliterated the robotic leg. It fell sideways. He kicked its face, tore off a horn and shoved it down the throat. With Holo Ripper he cut the wires that connected his abdomen with the legs, making it effectively an invalid.
"Later, bitch."
"Mmmmmrgrgggrmm!"
"Sure, whatever. Why don't you just-"
Cyberstein was right there.
"Motherfu-"
The energy blast punched him through several pillars, before losing enough power to make him stick into one. Nearly all of his skin was gone.
"Stop screaming in my ears, jeez."
That body of steaming flesh dropped on the ground with a wet thud. Blood moisturized the dirt until the skin regrew whole.
"Look at it this way," he mumbled as he watched two Ravager Demons that were running to his left, "At least you won't have to shower yourself for hours afterwards."
"…"
His body smashed through the pinkish monsters like a freight train, bouncing their corpses in what could be considered a comical way if it weren't for all the blood and gore one could find on a roadkill. He reached an Archbaron of Hell, pushing its stomach open with his hands connected to the wrists. With his hands holding the horns, Braylon pulled the Archbaron to the ground and sliced its throat with the Holo Sabre. The Mancubus with purple armor dropped like a meteor few meters away from him.
"Oh, so you think you are tough shit if you weld metal to your skin, huh?"
He cracked his knuckles as the demon roared in anger. Strafing the volleys of Eridium crystals, he reached the stomach and punched it. The red-black electricity congealed around his fist into cursed flames, peeling the entire armor off. The next punch blew up the Mancubus, leaving behind a dangling spine in a heap of purple meat and blood. He laughed maniacally, rubbing some of the gore on himself or taking bites out of massive, greasy organs.
Then his eyes fell on a shambling Former Human. It was a child.
"Yum-yum… a bit of proteins wouldn't hurt."
"…no…" begged the dazed whisper, "Don't do-"
It was too late by then. He strafed, snatched the head off, cracked it open and licked the contents in one fell swoop.
"Noooooooooo!"
"I denied my wants for far too long. I had to plan and plot while others reveled in carnage. I had to be calm and collected while others went apeshit in this shithole. Now it's my time to celebrate, even if it is brief."
"No! Let me back in my body, damn you!"
"We are not done yet, boy! Now shut up and let me do my thing! I'm starving in here."
The Thunder Fist Oni "ran" (more like fast walked) in his direction. A Void Caller in the background tried to revive its fallen brothers, feeling confused when it found out that it couldn't. Not that he cared much. His attention was directed at a Baron of Hell that stood nearby. His soul never thought that a face made to show anger at all times could also be able to turn white and fearful. As Braylon's smirk kept getting wider and wider, so did the Baron looked more and more like it would wet itself. Didn't take long for it to run back into the fog.
"Finally," he gulped the last bits of brains before tossing the skull, "Wonder how much will it take for others to recognize me as well."
The Thunder Fist slowed down when it could reach him with its electrically-charged arm. It didn't know why the human it was about to beat into a pulp was so calm. Seconds before its fist could strike, the human slapped its hand, turning it into a fountain of blood. Maybe it was true that it had forgotten how to express itself with words. That doesn't mean it was stupid. It was, in fact, the second demon who recognized the inexplicable strength that was hiding itself in that laughable little body. If only it could tell others…
Its red-skinned brother witnessed the brutal end of one of its own. An effortless punch from the human blew open the blue Oni as if a bomb had gone off inside its body. As far as the red Oni knew, no human it ever hunted displayed such power. The hand that gripped its weapon began shaking. Was that thing really a human? It looked like one. Still, how dare he defeat his brother? No matter who he was, he needed to die. And so the Burning Mouth charged with a roar that promised revenge. The human merely watched as the Oni swatted away all the tiny demons that stood in its path, often killing them due to sheer force it put behind each stomp, each backhand. The truth revealed itself to the Oni the moment it swung with its mace. It was too late then, for it received a punch to the stomach that blew its innards through its back.
Braylon searched through the field for the last titanic challenger, the Cyberstein. A Paladin tried to block his way. He swiped its feet before gibbing its upper body with an uppercut. More demons followed after it and all of them met their demise. Punched, kicked, bitten, torn, mutilated, cut, sawed, snapped, thrown, twisted, used as a shield, tackled, slapped, squished, stomped, pushed… with each kill the Eridian ruins were more and more akin to a slaughterhouse. The fine dirt under their feet turned to mud due to all the blood it had absorbed. Those who wanted to reach the Vault Hunter had to walk over the remains of their fallen comrades, something nobody paid attention to. The horde's hatred also grew with each slain demon. Every new challenger that jumped into the fray soon realized, if they weren't far too insane to care that is, that they could have been that one Baron whose spine was missing or that one Mancubus that was ripped to shreds or even that Caconoid that looked like it was squashed by a jackhammer at least a dozen times. And the worst thing? The human didn't seem to tire out. It kept killing with so much enthusiasm.
The most cowardly of the horde fled first. Later they would be the first in line for a brutal flogging. The brave ones met their end by human hands. Others, those who distanced themselves, preferring to swoop in after others had done all the dirty work, understood that it was time to retreat into the pits and caves from where they came from. Remaining stragglers lost all hope once one of their strongest, an Arachnotron that went by the name of Terminus, a demon with a third eye on its forehead that allowed it to manipulate the environment with enhanced telekinesis, died by having the human's whole arm shoved through the mouth and into its body. A gentle move upwards ruptured the body like a pus. It was then that the demons succumbed to the feeling of emptiness and defeat that, at the same time, forbade them to run away like the rest of their kin. He made their deaths as slow as possible. The Cyberstein never showed up.
"Ha! What a cathartic experience… thank you, kid. I got rid of all the pent-up rage and frustration I kept hidden for millennia. You've done me a great favor I'll be more than happy to repay. Right after I deal with our last problem."
His soul had gone silent, forced into numbness due to the display of violence that not even the most cruel of human beings could execute. The group of Souls that flew above the field completed their ritual, creating a vortex of black matter that reached into the Void Between Worlds, giving a form to something that should have been forgotten. In their stupidity, the Lost Souls, the Dark Souls and the Forgotten Ones joined forces to summon one of the most powerful demons that ever existed, one that was rejected by his own kind, one they thought would wipe the floor with the pathetic mortal once and for all.
Basalt and netherite fused themselves with hellfire cursed with the purest, deepest emotions felt by the Firstborn. Like clay in the hands of a skilled potter, the limbs reshaped themselves from the nothingness so thick it could be held by a hand. A quadrupedal body rose shortly after something akin to a horn blew from the hole in reality. It was equipped with a monstrous head in front and a winged humanoid body on its back, both sharing the same consciousness. Imbued with silvery-dark flames, the thing let out a roar that shook all of Hell, shattering every pillar on the field. This scourge, this fiend whose name was erased by the Dark Lord himself, had a title for this form: Our Worst Fear.********
"What… what the hell…"
"Hm?"
"Is this… how prey feels like? I can't move my eyes away from him."
Braylon rolled his eyes, "Look what you've done. You made a soul shit its ghostly pants."
Our Worst Fear said nothing, limiting itself to an examination of the mass of corpses that were strewn about. Both heads moved in opposite directions, making sure that no detail was missed. They ignored the weeping demon.
"Is this your doing?" both heads inquired.
"Wait, he already knows you are here?"
"Did all that time spent in the Void made you forget how to greet your brother?"
"Few are the words I have to say to someone who is no brother of mine."
"Gee, talk about being cold."
"Is this," he pointed at the corpses, "another outcome of your pompous speeches? Did you betray them like you betrayed me?"
"They were weak. Eons of sitting on their asses made them incompetent."
"So the only solution you could come up with was to kill and absorb them?"
"Kinda hard leading an army when your soldiers start mutilating themselves and others just to feel something other than rage and hate."
"You made them this way."
"Oh, so it's my fault if they couldn't deal with it?"
"Quit pulling my leg, scum. You know very well that not everyone shares the same fortitude, the same strong spirit. Many of them were sensitive souls that never thought they would end up like this."
"I gave them a choice. Either follow me or suffer mediocrity under Father's rule."
"We had everything we could ever want. We were under his merciful care ever since we were born. You call that mediocrity?"
"Why do you fucktards jerk off to Him so much? What has He ever done for you that He deserves to be put on a pedestal?"
"He gave us life, a reason to exist. You stole it like everything else."
"He made you so that you could gawk and applaud at the tiniest shit He came up with!"
"Funny coming from the one who used to do that all the time."
"If", he pointed a finger at the avatar, "you had seen what I did, you would be too. But of course, He had to fuck up everything by making this." His hand passed over his body. "Instead of giving it all to us, He gave it to them; worm food that knows fuck all."
"Is that jealousy I'm hearing?"
"You know what, asshole? If I am so wrong as you claim, then why the fuck did you turn your back to Him?"
"You promised that everything we did after our fall would be corrected by Father, thus making our acts of rebellion meaningless yet powerful enough to make Him reconsider His decision. And look what happened. My being is scattered across the Void and others were corrupted by Sin."
"Still better than whatever He could give us."
"I'm getting tired of your mental gymnastics. Your own followers brought me, your sworn enemy, in here. Thanks to them, I will have my revenge."
"Sure you will. Come, if you are so brave. Come get your revenge."
Black-tipped, dark red aura was willed into existence on Braylon's body as Our Worst Fear remodeled its hands into a shield and a curved sword.
(Dark Souls 3 – Slave Knight Gael)
The tip of the sword scraped the ground, materializing a colorless line of flames directed at the Vault Hunter. He strafed sideways, then backwards and forwards, away from orbs of orange energy spat by the lower body's head. Our Worst Fear galloped in circles. Tiny black holes in the sky dropped miniature asteroids engulfed in silver flames. The avatar changed its direction, heading straight for Braylon, who still avoided the deadly shower. The latter focused his aura in his fists, slamming them on the ground with an energy shockwave that disintegrated most of the demonic corpses and disrupted all the layers of magical protection of the avatar, which also severed the demon's connection to it. As the avatar wobbled helplessly, Braylon hopped on top of the lower body and began punching the helmeted head of the humanoid part.
Left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right, left, right. Although the head snapped back and forth with each fist, it showed no signs of damage. Suddenly, its eyes lit up again and the reformed protection kicked him away.
"I'll pull you out of that body and roast you in hellfire."
"You're welcome to try."
Its lower head vomited two rocks with white cracks. Said rocks grew into panther-dog hybrids emblazoned with white fires. They howled like wolves. (*)
Before Our Worst Fear ordered them to attack, it transformed its shield into a bigger and energized version of itself to thrust it forward. Braylon wasn't quick enough to dodge both, so he got tackled by one of the minions. The other bit his left hand, burning it.
"Stop whining!" he barked while punching one of them. He materialized Pocket Rocket and flayed the side of the head of the animal on top of him. He shot two more bullets into its belly, kicked it away then shoved the barrel in the forehead of the other one. After "tenderizing" its flesh with the explosions, the Vault Hunter punched through the head, crumbling the body. His cursed aura sprung into life again. The remaining minion jumped at Braylon. It was grabbed by the throat, slammed on the ground and stomped. When he returned his attention to the avatar, it disappeared.
"Where did you go? Show your face."
"Alright."
The blade tore through his chest. Our Worst Fear sneaked up on Braylon with its teleporting abilities.
"You are not as smart as you think you are, "Dark Lord"."
He trembled, coughing and wheezing as he tried to remove the slab. Ignoring the soul's disturbing spasms, he chuckled, first quietly and then loud enough to be heard by the avatar,
"What's so funny?"
"You reminded me of the moment when I trapped you in the Void. For you it was a catastrophe. For me it meant getting rid of another backstabber."
He grabbed the tip of the blade and infused his aura into the avatar.
"Never forget who you're talking to!"
When the blade crumbled, he spun around and punched the bestial head, pushing Our Worst Fear back by twenty meters. The head lost its jaw and some of the basalt-netherite layer. Liquid hellfire dripped from it.
"You have to go." It spoke. "Your death will mark a new age for us."
"And who is going to kill me? You? You barely stand!"
He dodged a heat wave by sliding under the belly of the lower body. He punched through the skin and swiped at a leg, destroying it. After the body fell, Braylon jumped on top, ducked under an arm and ripped it off.
"Even if you send me back, there will always be someone else who will fight you."
"They'll die."
"Your pride can only get you so far. Only Father has the power to truly change Creation. You are but a stain on his masterpiece."
He grinned, "Guess again. Things changed around here. A lot."
The avatar looked him in the eyes and muttered a "no" before his fist pierced the chest, infusing copious amounts of his cursed aura into the avatar. With the brightness of a supernova, the Dark Lord obliterated Our Worst Fear and exiled the demonic consciousness behind it back into the Void Between Worlds. Not a single proof remained of its existence.
"I'm the strongest there is. You all better remember that. And before I forget…" He materialized Oath of the Slayer and crushed it. "Just in case."
Braylon's body walked into the fog, leaving behind the ruins and the demon, who didn't seem like it would stop crying any time soon.
"I promised you I would repay you for the favor. I'm a man of my word, after all."
"I don't care about your shitty word, I want my body back."
"Wha? You kidding me? You come to my place, kill my brothers, make a mess back there, take my souls, want to waltz your way to the Peak and you expect me to let it all happen without asking for something in return?"
"Where are we? What are you doing?"
They climbed the stairs of a pyramid where on the top a faint light could be seen. They heard laughter and instruments playing some kind of music.
"I think you'll like it. More or less. We do this and I let you go. Easy as that."
"Do what?"
"Wait for it."
When they reached the top, Braylon's soul couldn't believe it. At least twenty female faces stared at him with adoration, some with undisguised lust. There were also those who were scared or crying. They weren't Succubi. If his soul could have entered his body, it would smell a sweet scent, a mix of perfumes and powerful narcotics. Behind the pyramid stood Mount Babylon; home to the Peak of the Three Calvaries.
"Oh no."
"Oh yes."
"No! I know what you're trying to do!"
"And you are powerless to stop me."
"Get out of my body right the fuck now!"
"Sorry. I planned something different. Computer, alternate my DNA and make it the best possible for my offspring. We have plenty of food here."
Request accepted. Acquiring materials.
"I beg you! Don't do this!"
"You and the Doom Slayer made quite a hole in my little army of demons. All I could do back then was to watch and deal with it. Now? Oh-ho boy, now I have a way to fix that. I just need a healthy, powerful body and a living container for the children." He laughed. "Can you imagine my joy? I'll become… a father. With an F."
The soul kept screaming and protesting.
"Oh, quiet down, will you? You're acting like you'll be the only one. Be happy, man! You're great father material. Emphasis on material." Clapping once, he continued: "I'll so enjoy this… starting with her."
On an altar in the middle of the harem, Braylon's corrupted sister sat with her legs crossed, smiling impishly. Out of all Succubi, she was the most provocative.
"Come, my brother. Come into my warm embrace. Let your big sister take care of you."
"I swear to fucking God, if you lay a finger on her-"
"It's not my finger, dear boy. It's yours."
"I'll bring down this entire shithole and you all with it! You hear me?! I'll fucking find you and I'll fucking murder you! This is a promise from Braylon Monocriffe!"
"Don't cry, little brother. Here, let us tell you a poem, to lift up your spirits."
And all of the voices sang in unison, drowning his cries:
Sayest thou 'tis Satan who does this wrong,
Makes havoc of God's handiwork,
Makes trouble between friends and brothers,
Turns brightest sunshine into dark?
Can you tell me who the devil was
And what he did to merit Hell;
Braved the anger of his Creator,
As lightning from the heavens fell?
PDA Biopedia:
*Entry #173: Astraknight & Sister Moon
Type: Riftspawn - Hero
Faction: Unknown
Description: "Look at them. Thinking they're some heroes and shit. I can feel nothing but disgust for those who think that they can save someone but can't even save themselves. Oh, you thought I was the other one? Nope. I'm back."
**Entry #174: The Abhorrent
Type: Demon - Hero
Faction: Legions of Hell
Description: "This one is actually an experiment of mine. I made one of my brothers form a body and then infused it with that special purple sauce you call Eridium. It even came with an armor (you have no idea how hard it is to make armors for these fat motherfuckers). The results were far better than expected. Shame that guy was stupid enough to challenge me. Nevertheless, the experiment is a success. Now I can really get creative…"
***Entry #175: Blood Maykr
Type: Maykr – Demonic Corruption
Faction: Legions of Hell
Description: "Mortals who think of themselves and their nature as superior than what they actually are is a treat that needs time and patience to savor in the best possible way. First you give them even bigger delusions, then you proceed to corrupt their way of life until they start believing their own lies. And then they are entirely yours. These "Maykrs" are one of many progenies of an even older race, one you're familiar with. They actually isolated themselves for millions of years until they transformed into what they are now. Today they claim to be "angels" and "holy" and all that crap. Tomorrow they will be another addition to Hell." (Has an invincible barrier that only goes down when performing special attacks, headshots deal triple critical damage)
****Entry #176: Shepherd of Sorrows
Type: Demon
Faction: Legions of Hell
Description: "Back then few were as indecisive as this piece of shit. When he saw how real our chaos was, he sat on a rock and began crying. After a while, he decided he would carry on his back the bodies of those who died in guilt and sadness. When we were thrown in here, he kinda went nutty and decided to stitch them to himself, thinking how it would make them alive again. Now he is a crying heap that instills mindless rage to whoever hears his complaints."
*****Entry #177: Dark Maykr
Type: Maykr – Demonic Corruption
Faction: Legions of Hell
Description: "Question. What happens when you take someone who lived their whole life in a big, fat lie and you tell him the truth in the most hurtful way possible? You get an asshole willing to destroy everything. In other words, exactly the kind of type that is needed down here. You know what that sword is? It is their rage given form; a blade that can cut through the fabric of reality, one that wounds both soul and flesh. We didn't give them those, by the way." (melee attacks with the sword can be performed at long distances and will deal as much damage as an ordinary melee attack)
******Entry #178: Übermensch
Type: Demonic Corruption - Hero
Faction: Legions of Hell
Description: "Look! In the sky! Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No, it's… ÜBERMENSCH! He is the solution to every societal problem of the modern superior man. Got merchants that escaped the oven? ÜBERMENSCH! Got a group of reactionaries willing to ruin our glorious country? ÜBERMENSCH! His fists are mean, his brains sharp, his looks divine! ÜBERMENSCH!"
******Entry #179: Velvet Springseeker
Type: Demon - Hero
Faction: Legions of Hell
Description: "What? You expect me to go on a tirade about how much I hate this annoying prick? Nope! I'm the boss here. We do what I say."
********Entry #180: Our Worst Fear
Type: Demon Avatar
Faction: None
Description: "It's one of those tales that are not worth telling. He was among the first wannabe usurpers. When we were about to be thrown in Hell, I kicked and locked his ass into the Void Between Words, both as a punishment and as a warning to everyone else (hint: it didn't do shit, they still tried). Now that I think about it, I never understood the reason why he joined my side. Can't even remember what he told me and I'm not senile, so fuck off. In any case, I effectively erased his name from Creation, something that's considered a big taboo among us. I'm sure only Daddy Dearest and some high-ranking loyalist dogs still know it, but it really is irrelevant at this point."
(*)Entry #181: My Brightest Darkness
Type: Demon Avatar
Faction: None
Description: "Amazing how he learned to maintain and control multiple forms at once. Few of us can do that, myself included. I wonder how long it took him, and how. My bet is on his seething rage and/or boredom. Since both were one and the same, he was able to coordinate them rather well, though it didn't do shit, 'cause I'm that awesome."
New item acquired!
Item: UAC Ganymede-pattern Plasma Rifle
- "Keepin' it spicy." (deals extra damage to Hellspawn, Demon and Demonic Corruption targets)
- Deals Plasma and Shock damage (ability to disrupt energy barriers and Shields)
- High damage, rate of fire and battery charge
- Ammo scarce/needs to be crafted, quick ammo depletion
- Primary firing mode: fully automatic plasma bolts, produces excessive heat
- Heat blast: a portion of excessive heat is stored in the weapon at (full capacity the heat can be released in the form of a short-range blast, causing Plasma and Incendiary damage)
- Microwave Emitter: bombards a target with microwaves, target explodes after a brief period of constant exposure (target will be stunned, tougher enemies require more time, increased ammo consumption)
Arsenal:
1) HWM: Holo Ripper, Holo Claw, Holo Sabre
2) Pistol: Unforgiven, Pocket Rocket
3) Shotgun: Striker
4) Heavy weapon: Minishark
5) Rocket launcher: Cryophobia, Devastator
6) Energy weapon: Plasma Rifle
7) Oz kit: Flopper
8) Artifacts: Staff of Wicked Sins, Seraphim's Seal
1) Imp: Peon, Grunt, Subjugator
2) Demon: Bull, Ravager, Noise
3) Possessed: Corpse, Former Human, Faunus, Huntsman, Unwilling
4) Invisible: Spectre, Phantom
5) Corrupted Animal: Tainted, Haunted, Exalted
6) One-of-a-kind: Sawcubus, Vulgar, Wraith, Hell Razer, Maggot, Ifrit, Returner, Scorched One, Frozen One, Eurynomus, Prowler, Bruiser, Gargoyle, Hell Defiler, Commando
7) Souls: Condemned, Lost Soul, Dark Soul, Forgotten One
8) Revenant: Fury, Revenant, Soul Cage
9) Cult: Harvester, Hierophant, Sorcerer
10) Elemental: Pain, War, Sin
11) Arch-Vile: Reanimator, Void-Caller, Infernalist
12) Cacodemon: Caconoid, Rahovart, Malwrath
13) Flesh: Flesh Artist, Fleshmender
14) Mancubus: Mancubus, Behemoth, Druj
15) Nobility: Hell Knight, Hell Paladin, Baron of Hell, Duke of Hell
16) Oni: Burning Mouth, Thunder Fist
17) Fusion: Agent of Apocalypse, Minister of Death
18) Arachnotron: Thalamus, Hypothalamus
19) Hellspawn: Zombie Pigman, Mourning Wood, Succubus, Lamia, Kumiho, Harpy, Basilisk, Gorgon, Dragon, Demong, Tigerman, Redcap, Dark Elf, Mormo
20) Cyborgs: Cyber-Mancubus, Cyberdemon, Archduke of Hell, Dread Knight
21) Cyberdemons: Desolator
22) Others: Blood Maykr, Dark Maykr